


Work of Art

by gyuhyun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyuhyun/pseuds/gyuhyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tormented sculptor falls in love with his creation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [photo](http://25.media.tumblr.com/e6e69651620539419f9a06973db553d1/tumblr_mj3f56Eplz1rdrcebo1_500.jpg) and a fill for this [prompt](http://exopromptmeme.livejournal.com/827.html?thread=164923#t164923).

Jongin feels his hand touch something warm while his eyes watch the steady breathing of someone's chest. He feels his hand glide further up what he can only assume as a person's thigh and stops just at the sides of the person's upper body. The person beneath him sucks in a breath that Jongin feels each and every rib of the person and he runs his fingers on them tapping each one lightly. His free hand begins exploring the pert pink nipples that contrasts with milky white skin and the person shudders. The urge to look at the person's face is strong so Jongin lifts his head up in an attempt to glimpse such beauty.

Jongin's eyes flash open and he finds himself in his studio sweating profusely with a problem down south that he can't be bothered with so early in the morning but he has no choice.  
That day, Jongin abandons all his work and begins sketching an outline of what he presumes is a man's thigh. When he realizes he cannot skillfully bring to justice what the thigh feels like, he crumples the paper and starts drawing a male's upper body instead. He ends up wasting his day away alternating between drawing thighs and upper bodies and spends more than at least a hundred papers in an attempt to bring justice to his dreams.

The next night Jongin dreams of innocent wide dark eyes staring at him. The cheeks are tainted with a pinkish hue and the lips are red like rubies. The light brown hair that contrasts with the milky white face looks soft to the touch. He entangles his fingers on the person's hair and he notices that the man, or what he assumes to be a man, is breathing heavily through his mouth and he realizes it's because Jongin has his free hand reaching lower and lower down the man's stomach. The person beneath him gasps as Jongin's hand comes to stop at the base of the man's cock.

Jongin sits up from his sleeping position eyes wide and breathing uneven. He's still sweating profusely and decides he needs a shower. A very cold one.

Jongin doesn't bother tidying his mess up from the day before. Instead he picks up a piece of paper and starts drafting out a face. He tries to piece together the face and the upper body more than once but he ends up either crumpling the paper in disappointment or tearing it up in frustration because he can't get it right. He looks out the window and realizes the sun has just begun to rise. He sighs. He has all day to do this.

Jongin doesn't sleep the following days to come, doesn't sleep peacefully that is.

He can’t stop dreaming about creamy white skin, can’t stop thinking about his hands roaming different parts of the man’s body and he can’t stop his eyes from trying to memorize all the details he can see. He wakes up early in the morning, just a few hours after he’s closed his eyes and the first thing he does is grabs a pencil and sketches.

Every day without fail he draws and tries to connect the body parts by improvising because for some reason he can’t remember the details of the joints, he can’t remember how every part is connected with each other. He only remembers how it feels and it frustrates him to no end because his hands are supposed to remember.

Jongin is about ready to give up on his obsession with this perfect being because he can’t draw him to justice. He is on his bed when an idea strikes him. He closes his eyes and almost automatically he is sucked into a world he’s all too familiar with and a body beneath him he’s slowly beginning to memorize. Today he decides he won’t focus on just one body part like all the other nights, today he’ll run his hands all over this man’s body, memorize every detail with his eyes and possibly feel every bit of skin he can with his lips.

He does just that feeling creamy white skin suddenly warming up and flushing with his touch. He memorizes every curve, every detail, everything his eyes can see and then he places tentative pecks on the man’s forehead and the man gasps at the touch and Jongin feels his heart beat erratically. He continues to kiss the man’s face and then when he reaches the soft ruby lips, just as soon as his lips have touched the other’s he finds himself wide awake in his studio where scraps of paper with different drafts of body parts are. He scrambles to his feet and grabs the nearest clean paper.

He begins drawing and finds himself so immersed in finishing the details of the man that he barely registers the door bell ringing. He is momentarily stunned and stopped from his drawing when he rushes to his door and is surprised that his order of sculpting clay has arrived, it wasn’t due until two months. The delivery guy tells him two months has passed and Jongin just gapes as he is forced to sign the clipboard to claim his package.

Jongin returns to his table where his drawing lies and his eyes widen when he realizes he’s finished. The man on the paper looks exactly like the man in his dreams. Eyes wide with innocence, lips full and colorless, and every detail his hands and eyes remember seen on the paper. _It needs color_ , he thinks.

He discards the sculpting clay somewhere in his studio and proceeds coloring his drawing. The sun has begun to set when he has finished coloring all the details that need color. He scans his drawing and frowns. His drawing is looking identical to the man in his dreams but there is still something that’s _missing_. He groans in frustration and is about to crumple the paper and throw it away when he spots the large amount of sculpting clay.

An idea hits him.

A smirk appears on Jongin’s face as he lays the paper flat on his drawing table and begins to take out the clay. Jongin’s calculating and measuring in his head as he readies his materials and he estimates just how much clay he’ll need and just how tall his sculpture will be. A wide smile spreads across his face and his eyes gleam with probable insanity as he begins to mix the powder so he can start sculpting.

Jongin starts with the mound where his sculpture will stand tall and proud and beautiful.  
Jongin finishes the base just as the sun has risen and he can feel the tiredness in his eyes. He needs to rest his eyes, he really does but he needs his drawing to come to life as soon as possible so his dreams and this man will stop haunting him. He rubs his eyes tiredly and pins the drawing at a wall where his eyes will see everything from it and decides to maybe take a nap and then resume working.

Jongin swears he’s only slept a few minutes before waking up from the same dream, except this time he doesn’t just see and watch. He feels everything and is filled with inexplicable emotion. The emotion is so heavy that he wakes up gasping for air. He gets up quickly ignoring the fatigue from his body and begins working once more starting on the feet and the legs. He somehow surprises himself with how well he can still work despite the lack of sleep.

Jongin barely sleeps, barely drinks, barely eats and he barely lives as he tries to make his drawing come to life in an attempt to maybe save him from this man he has never seen before. His dreams aren’t nightmares but they take him to somewhere foreign and so he rarely sleeps because he’s afraid of what his fantasies will do to him. He buries himself with work as he finishes his sculpture, never mind that he might be killing himself in the process.

With eyes wide, Jongin realizes he’s fallen asleep again and he scrambles to his feet to see how much damage he’s done because he fell asleep on the job. He sighs when the sculpture is still as perfect as it can be despite its unfinished state. Recently, when he manages to fall asleep while working he finds himself being caressed and soothed and relaxed by the man and when he wakes up, despite the little amount of shut eye he gets, he finds himself relaxed and energized enough to continue working. If his dreams are more like this, then he doesn’t mind sleeping.

It takes Jongin months before he finishes his work of art. He peruses it, walks around it and compares it to his drawing. His sculpture is white and the details are there and if he touches his creation he knows it will feel almost the same as it did in his dreams. He looks at the colors on his drawing and realizes how they are so imperfect and unreal and he wishes he could find the right colors to paint his sculpture with.

He looks up to wide eyes and there is no innocence in them. He touches the lips and it isn’t soft. He lays his head on the bare chest and it isn’t warm. He cries out. This isn’t perfect. He thought that by sculpting this man he’d be free of this need for a perfect copy of the man in his dreams but this thing in front of him, this thing he created is far from perfect, it’s far from beautiful.

Jongin lashes out on the papers on the table, scatters different angles of body parts, faces and failed attempts at piecing those pictures together on the floor. He throws a fit as he can’t bring his creation to life the way he wants it to, the way he needs it to. He is about to push the sculpture to the ground so it will crumble to little tiny pieces where it’s imperfection won’t haunt him when he feels himself crying.

He wipes the tears and his hands land on the arms of his creation. He can’t see why it won’t come to life. He takes a stool, stands on it and slowly rubs both arms of his creation. He leans his head on the forehead of his creation and slowly his hands find their way on his creation’s neck.

“I need you to come alive.” He whispers as if it will make his wishes come true. He knows it’s impossible. The tears slowly fall as Jongin can’t help but be filled with loss at the thought that this man is a failed attempt at a perfection he knows will never exist. He needs this man to exist.  
He pecks his creation’s lips and places kisses all over the sculpture’s face before succumbing to a much needed sleep.

 

When Jongin opens his eyes, he is greeted with perfection.

Warm fingers tangle through his hair, a warm smile greets him, wide innocent eyes stare at his and this is perfection he thinks and he sits up thinking he might be dreaming again but it’s as if the man knows what he’s thinking and shakes his head. Jongin finds out he was resting on the man’s naked lap and he looks around to find that his sculpture is no longer standing on its mound. A warm hand encloses on his and he looks back to his creation and he feels the tears sting his eyes because right in front of him is his creation, with creamy white skin, pinkish cheeks, ruby red lips and wide dark eyes with an innocence that captivates his being.

This is it. This is what he wants. This is what he needs. This is perfection, his work of art. This is

“Kyungsoo.” He whispers resting his forehead on the warm forehead of his creation. He kisses him on the lips and smiles into the kiss even though he can feel the tears mix into it. He pulls away and looks into those eyes that are smiling as well, “That’s what I’ll call you.”


End file.
